


Sides of the Coin

by youjik33



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Incest, M/M, PWP, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15423477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youjik33/pseuds/youjik33
Summary: Sabin is sure the thief who calls himself Gerad and plans to break into Figaro Castle is actually his brother. Yet "Gerad" seems quite adamant that he isn't -- so adamant, in fact, that Sabin might be able to put aside his own certainty, at least for the moment.





	Sides of the Coin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweet_and_sour_candy_77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweet_and_sour_candy_77/gifts).



Stealth had never been one of Sabin's strengths. So when he tried to creep out from between one of the barrels in the ship's hold he'd wedged himself between, he wasn't surprised to feel Celes' arm on his. "Where are you going?" she murmured in the darkness.

"I have to talk to him," he said.

"Sabin." He wondered what the expression on her face was right then. "It can wait."

He'd waited a year. Another ten years before that. Surely he could wait another night. But the thought of it made every muscle in his body tighten. "I just want to see him, and ask him--"

"He has his reasons, Sabin," she said gently. "All the same, he surely won't let his gang of thugs dump you overboard, so I suppose it can't do much harm." She chuckled. "If they'd even have the courage to try."

Sabin smiled. "Will you be all right down here by yourself?"

"Of course," she said, sounding just a little annoyed. "I've slept in worse places than this."

He unfolded his body from his hiding place, wincing at the tightness in his limbs, and crept up the creaking stairs. The freighter's crew paid him no mind at all, doubtless thinking he was part of the gang that had chartered the ship in the first place. The last time Sabin had been on this route seemed like a lifetime ago -- a paid passenger, that time, with Cyan and a rather seasick Gau. He wondered where the two of them were.  Surely not dead; he wouldn't let himself even consider that as an option. He had never let himself think his brother might be dead either, but all the same, sometimes on the darkest nights, under a sky that roiled black with storms that never seemed to break, he found his thoughts starting to drift to the worst possible scenarios. 

He thought he remembered where the stateroom was, and it seemed likely that the leader of the gang would choose such a room for himself. Sabin took a deep breath and rapped on the door. 

"What is it?" a familiar voice called curtly. "I'm very busy at the moment."

"We need to talk," Sabin said. There was a moment of silence, and then the door swung open.

"This nonsense again," Edgar said. "Come in, and make it quick."

Sabin did as he was told, stepping into the richly appointed cabin and letting Edgar close the door behind them. There was a large double bed in the back corner, covered in thick scarlet blankets, and the desk beside it was strewn with papers. Curious, Sabin stepped across the room to examine them.

"What do you think you're doing?" Edgar snapped. "I had to pay very dearly for that information, you're not getting a look for free."

"Pay?" Sabin blinked. "Edgar, these are maps of Figaro's dungeons. You must have made them yourself. You think I don't recognize your handwriting?"

"Not this again," Edgar sighed. "I told you, my name is Gerad, and I have no idea who you think you are or who this friend of yours is--"

"We're alone in here," Sabin said in exasperation, gesturing around the empty room. "You don't have to keep up this charade any more."

"And I don't know why you cling to the claim that it's a charade. Look, I have some amount of sympathy. Everyone lost someone when the world ended. I understand that you want to believe he's still alive, and maybe he is, somewhere. But I'm not him."

"What in the world is wrong with you?" Sabin asked. "Do... do you have amnesia?"

Edgar -- Gerad -- gave a derisive snort. "Amnesia? Don't be ridiculous. Look, try to put your wishful thinking aside for just one moment, and look at me." He spread his arms, encompassing all of himself but also the room around them. "Are you really completely sure I must be the man you think I am? Without any doubt?"

Sabin let himself really stare at the man before him, at the face he knew almost as well as his own. Blue eyes, almost like ice, high cheekbones, high forehead, strong nose. Maybe a bit thinner than he remembered, but then, the past year had been rough on everyone. And the hair was a dull mouse brown, not the bright sunlit gold he remembered -- but that was surely due to dye. Simple but well-kept black clothing, again, part of a disguise. But the expression on the other man's face, that wry, bitter smile, that was something he had to admit he had never seen on his brother. And for a moment, just a brief moment, Sabin felt a flicker of doubt in his heart. Was he really just seeing what he wanted to see, what he needed so desperately to believe?

"I," he said. "No, I..."

"I thought as much," Gerad said with a dark chuckle. "Tell me about this man you're seeking. What's he like? Handsome, I assume."

"Well, of course," Sabin said, then realized he'd been set up. He sighed in frustration. "I mean, he is, so yes, I guess that does mean you are too. He's got a brilliant mechanical mind, but a bit of a temper. And he flirts with women constantly, but never seems to get anywhere with them."

"Interesting," Gerad said. "Why is that, if he's as handsome and brilliant as you say? Surely many women would count themselves lucky to have his attention."

"I don't know," Sabin said. "I guess I never thought about it that much."

"Sounds like a classic case of overcompensation," Gerad said.

"Wh-what?" Sabin sputtered.

"Overcompensation. Putting on a show for the world, to seem interested in something he's not actually interested in at all." Gerad's eyes flickered over Sabin, head to toe. "If he was spending time with men who look like you, well, I guess we can see where his real interests lie."

"I- you- that's- he's my brother!" Sabin stammered.

"Is he! That changes things. Or maybe it doesn't. You're a very good-looking man yourself, you know. And that physique is... impressive."

Gerad took a step closer, and Sabin, who was never intimidated by anything, had to fight down the urge to step back.  Gerad's long-fingered hand lifted, settled in the middle of Sabin's chest. The touch was whisper-light, but seemed to suck the breath out of Sabin's lungs. "What are you doing?" he managed.

"You know, you did stow away on the ship I paid to charter for my gang and my gang alone," Gerad said. "How do you propose to pay for that, hmmm?"

"I... I have some gold."

"And once this job is pulled off, I won't have any use for whatever paltry amount you're thinking of giving me. What if I want something else?" His fingers spread until his hand was palm down across Sabin's breastbone. Sabin's heart was thudding and he knew the other man could feel it. 

"That's.... that's preposterous, I can't..."

"Why not? Because I look like your brother? I'm not your brother, remember?" Gerad closed the gap between them. Sabin had met very few people in his life who came anywhere near his own size, but Gerad was nearly as tall as he was, and those ice blue eyes were boring right into his. "I'm not your brother," he repeated, emphasizing every word.

The lushly appointed room seemed stifling, and Gerad's body was so close to his that Sabin could feel heat radiating off of him. But this man who looked just like Edgar -- who certainly must be Edgar, no matter what he insisted -- Sabin wanted nothing more than to put his arms around him, to touch him, to--

To be honest, he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. But maybe the things some secret small part of him had wanted from his brother for years were things he could do with this man, whoever he was, here and now. 

Gerad, sensing his hesitation, helped make the decision for him, wrapping his arms slowly around Sabin's waist, pressing their bodies together. "I can tell you want it," he breathed into Sabin's ear. And certainly, he could. Sabin could feel himself getting hard, and Gerad's thigh pressed against that hardness, teasingly, but the contact enough to make Sabin gasp and push back against it. 

"What do you want me to--" Sabin said, but Gerad cut him off with a kiss. It was a hungry kiss, and unexpected; Sabin reacted to it without thinking, opening his mouth to let in the other man's eager tongue. Sabin had never been kissed like this, and his first thought was that he had missed out on some things when he had spent a decade training on an isolated mountain. Gerad's hands moved down to squeeze the muscles of Sabin's ass, and Sabin let out a little gasp and bucked his hips against the other man's groin. 

"Such muscles," Gerad said, pulling back for a moment, his breath coming in warm pants against Sabin's jaw. "I bet you could carry me off to bed, if you wanted to."

That sounded like a challenge, and it was one Sabin was happy to accept. Gerad helped him out by wrapping his legs around Sabin's waist as Sabin lifted him off the ground. He didn't let go even when Sabin deposited him on the red velvet blanket, and they fell together onto the mattress. Sabin kicked his own shoes off, and managed to disentangle himself from Gerad long enough to pull off the man's tall leather boots. He still wasn't sure exactly what was happening, or if it was a good idea, or if Gerad was actually--  _No_ , he told himself,  _don't think about that._ _T_ _his man is Gerad, leader of a gang of thieves, and I have to do this to buy my passage into Figaro._  Just the thought of that gave Sabin a strange little thrill. He was never very good at lying, even to himself. 

With Gerad's boots tossed onto the floor, Sabin resumed kissing him again, and Gerad's fingers plucked at the hem of Sabin's vest, sliding it up and over his shoulders. Sabin could feel the other man's eyes on him, roving over his chest. He had never felt particularly vain about his body. He had put quite a lot of work into it, and felt the pride he took in his strength was justified, but he never particularly thought about how other people might look at him until now. Gerad's cheeks were flushed pink, his lips wet from kisses, and he was looking at Sabin in a way that made him feel a bit like livestock on an auction block. Sabin was surprised to find he liked it.

He moved in for another kiss, slower and more leisurely this time, closing his eyes and letting himself enjoy the feel of Gerad's hands tracing patterns across his back. He found the buttons of Gerad's shirt, feeling clumsy and heavy-handed as he fumbled with them. Gerad was much more slender than Sabin was, but his muscles were taut and firm under Sabin's hands, and when he brushed his fingers across a nipple he felt it hardening under his touch. He pushed the shirt open and bent to lick one, enjoying the hiss of pleasure it drew from the other man. He felt Gerad's hands come up to the top of his head, fingers curling into Sabin's short hair.

"You're beautiful," Sabin breathed against the smooth skin of Gerad's chest, which rippled with suppressed laughter at the words. 

"Me! Look at you. Your body is a work of art. The kind someone would be paying sculptors to emulate in marble."

Sabin rolled his eyes, smiling despite himself. "Flattery will get you everywhere," he said lightly, and moved to undo Gerad's belt buckle. He could already see the shape of the hard cock straining through the fabric, even before he unbuttoned Gerad's breeches and pulled them open. It was long and thick and there was a drop of moisture soaking through the front of the other man's smallclothes. Sabin pulled it free, trying not to let the other man see how nervous he was suddenly feeling. This was new territory for him, and he had only the vaguest idea of what he was supposed to do with it. But it felt pleasantly warm in his hand, the skin soft as silk, and he ran his thumb over the tip, the way he knew he liked himself, and was rewarded with another gasp, Gerad's hips bucking into his touch. He pumped his hand slowly, and Gerad's fingers dug into his scalp. The cock in Sabin's hand was, he guessed, roughly the same size and heft as his own, which gave him a thought.

"Here," he said, moving his hand -- a touch reluctantly -- so he could tug down Gerad's breeches. "Let's get these off." Gerad lifted his slim hips, his hands relaxing but not leaving Sabin's hair, letting Sabin strip his breeches off his long legs and toss them to the floor. His smallclothes followed a moment later. He really was beautiful, Sabin thought, all long, lean muscle and smooth skin, with just the lightest smattering of pale hair trailing navel to groin. 

"You next," Gerad said, a touch impatient, and Sabin complied, stepping back from the bed and pulling off his sash. He didn't feel at all self-conscious as he pulled his own pants down, and wondered at that; he was well aware he had nothing to be ashamed of, as far as his own body was concerned, and it wasn't as though he had never been naked around others before. But it had never been like this, and he almost felt like he should be feeling something else, not the warm excitement that was coursing through his veins and standing his own cock at excited attention. He could feel Gerad's eyes on him, and it just excited him more. He climbed back onto the bed, and Gerad's fingers immediately wrapped around his cock, and it was his turn to gasp in surprised pleasure. "How many people have touched you like this?" Gerad whispered into his ear. 

"None," Sabin admitted, wondering why Gerad was asking such a thing.

"A shame," Gerad said. "And yet I find myself feeling very pleased by that. Something this lovely, and I get it all to myself. Come here."

His legs spread, and he put his hands on Sabin's hips, giving him a tug until Sabin was laying fully on top of him. He held rested his forearms against the mattress beside Gerad's head, worried at first that his weight would be too much, but Gerad just gave a little murmur of affirmation as they pressed against each other, the warmth of skin on skin delicious. Their cocks slid against one another and Sabin let out something akin to a whimper. They were just about exactly the same size, and he moved his hips in slow, shallow, experimental movements, marveling at the way they fit together.

"Yes," he murmured. "Yes, just like that. You're doing very nicely, my dear."

His words were a little condescending, but Sabin found he didn't mind. A little assurance wasn't a bad thing. He moved his weight onto one arm so he could get a hand between them, stroking both cocks at once, and Gerad groaned happily and bit down on Sabin's shoulder. He gasped in surprise and felt both cocks in his hand twitch. And he could smell it, the low musky smell of the liquid dripping out of them, mixed with the sweat that was gradually breaking out on both of their bodies. There was something so basically primal about this act, so simple but feeling so good, that he wondered why he'd never done it before. Maybe there just hadn't been anyone he'd wanted to do it with before, no one but--

"Sabin," Gerad gasped against the side of his neck. "Yes, yes, that's so good."

"You're beautiful," Sabin said again. He rocked his hips, sliding against Gerad's cock and against his own hand. He thought he could probably find some kind of rhythm there, and that once he did, everything would be over. It was almost too crazy to believe, that he would come so easily from something like this, just this man's body under his, so new and yet so familiar. He canted his hips just so, tightened his fingers, and then Gerad bit into his shoulder again and he couldn't hold back any more, his orgasm crashing over him in a rush and eliciting a long shuddering groan. He felt Gerad's own length spasm, and it was only a matter of moments before he contributed to the pool of warmth spreading between them.

Sabin flopped onto his back, panting and a bit dazed, and watched as Gerad stood and stretched, crossing the room to pull a rag from a table in the corner, wetting it in the small basin and cleaning himself. He looked back to Sabin and grinned, and the wickedness in that grin sent a jolt through Sabin's whole body. He couldn't help but grin back. 

Gerad wiped him off, almost gentle in his actions, then tossed the soiled rag onto the table and sprawled beside Sabin on the bed. Sabin felt like he should say something, but his brain felt fuzzy, thoughts coming slow. He rolled onto his side, wrapping his arms around Gerad from behind and holding him close. A memory rose softly to mind, and he turned it over in his thoughts for a moment before speaking.

"When we were children," he whispered, lips nearly touching Gerad's cheek, "sometimes there would be frightful sandstorms around the castle. I would sneak into my brother's bed, and he would hold me the way I'm holding you now."

"Indeed," Gerad said. "I suppose you were much smaller then."

"Yes." Sabin's hand found one of Gerad's, on top of the blanket, and he twined their fingers together. "Have you been with many men, like this?"

Gerad chuckled. Sabin could feel it vibrating through his whole body. "More than you'd want to hear about, I'm sure. Things are different in this world, you know. Sometimes you have to do things you may not have dreamed of doing before."

"Or you have the freedom of doing the things you did dream of."

"Yes. That too."

They lay  in silence a moment more, until Sabin asked, "So what are you going to do, once you pull off your plunder of Figaro Castle?"

"Retire in peace with my wealth, I suppose," Gerad said. He chuckled again. "Live like a king."

In the lamplight, Sabin could see the strands of yellow shining through the dust brown of Gerad's hair. He pressed a kiss to one temple. "My friends and I are going to save the world," he said.

"Are you."

"And afterward, maybe I could see you again. You seem to know your way around the castle well. I'm sure you could make your way to an unlocked room in the night, unobserved."

"I'm sure I could," Gerad said, slowly. He shifted, starting to turn over, and there was a note of uncertainty in his voice. "Sabin, I--"

"Shhh," Sabin said, tightening his arms. "Don't."

It occurred to him that he had never actually told Gerad his name.  "I should probably go tell Celes that I'm all right," he murmured. But the man in his arms seemed as though he belonged there, and Sabin fell asleep with his face pressed against gold-tinted hair, smelling sun and sand.

 


End file.
